


Ditch "How can I help you, Sir?"

by Yuusakshi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Meetings, Getting Together, I'm Bad At Tagging, Omega Reader, Other, Sassy Reader, Shop Owner Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 23:46:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15617700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuusakshi/pseuds/Yuusakshi
Summary: Steve never anticipated what entering you shop could lead to.He's glad he did.





	Ditch "How can I help you, Sir?"

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, first work here! I'd love to know your opinions!

He’d never thought about the consequences of entering a store.

He could smell your Omega Hormons, the light arousal most people – especially Omegas – showed when they saw him. The Serum made him strong and tall. And attractive.

It was a small little shop, tacked away in a little niche, and it reminded him of home. Brooklyn, in the 40s, when he was shivering under three blankets, Bucky warming him, making jokes about how he can‘t believe Steve could even be an Alpha. It even _smell_ _s_ like home; like flour and smoke, despite being a secondhand clothes store.

He looks around, the whole place was filled to the brim with clothes, but nothing jumped at him.

“You need to actually look at the clothes – don’t worry, they won’t bite.” you tease. He just huffs at you, but growing more desperate by the minute. You look at the drama for a few, but then sigh and step forth, away from your counter.

“Sweetheart, what are you looking for?” He’s pulling his eyebrows together as he frowns at your question. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

You pull out a gray polo shirt from one of the many rags. “Really?” He scoffs, as you hold it out towards him. “You’d make a great suburban dad.” you say with a smirk.

“No, get me something else.”

He says it in a firm voice, making himself tall. Maybe he tried to impress you, most Omegas would melt away at the tone…. “Okay Princess, but it would suit you!” you keep up your joking fashion, smile, one eyebrow raised, but he can almost taste your dismay on his tongue. It’s making him feel ashamed of himself – letting his alpha side get the better of him, just because an alluring Omega talks to him.

You come back with a black leather jacket – well loved by its previous owner. You hold it up for him to slip into it, and this time, he does, mumbling _thanks_ and turning toward a mirror.

“It looks great!” You say with a smile, secretly glad he dropped the demeanor so quickly. He shifts around, looking at himself from all possible angles. “You sure I don’t look like some gang member?” he says self-consciously. You snort. “These days are long gone darling. It looks amazing on you.” He buys it.

“Almost sad I have to go.” He says, half joking, half serious.

“You could still have some coffee.” you suggest. He looks at you in surprise, until you gesture to a little sign, telling prizes of coffee.

So You sit down together, on a little couch in your store, a steaming cup in front of you, and talk. He’s surprised you didn’t know his whole life story – but you wave it of “I’m not into celebrities.”.

He learns that people often belittle you for being an Omega – frustrating you in the process, this shop is yours only after all.

You talk and talk.

He comes back the next day. And the day after. Visiting you is easy, talking to you is easy. He comes and goes frequently, you become friends, he even got your phone number in the process. You’re always there, behind your counter.

 

Until one day, you are not.

There’s a frail boy standing in your place, brown, messy hair and looking very excited. Not at all you. He pulls out his phone and slowly types a text message.

 

**Steve: Hey, there’s a doe in your shop. You alright?**

 

It takes his whole way home to receive an answer (it’s not like he checks every three minutes anyway) and as soon as he reads it, he’s kinda glad to be in his apartment.

 

**You: Yeah, heat came on, little doe’s promised to take care of my shop. He’s a good boy.**

 

He sucks in a breath. Is it hot in here? He walks while typing.

 

**Steve: What? Do you need anything? Is someone helping you?**

 

**You: Nah, I’m good… I am an adult, I can take care of myself Stevie.**

 

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding at your answer, looking up into the bathroom mirror.

He looks absolutely wrecked. Pupils blown wide, cheeks glowing – who was he kidding when he said you were friends? Just the thought of you being in heat - needing, clinging, desperate– he gulps. And then takes a cold shower.

He tries to calm himself. _They said it’s alright. There’s no one with them, let them take care of it alone. Leave it alone. Just. Leave. It._ _Alone._

His Phone is blinking when he finally gets out. He almost trips.

 

**You: Damn… Actually, I’m out of Pasta.**

 

His response was immediate.

 

**Steve: I got you covered.**

 

 

 

This was a bad idea.

 

Standing in front of the condom section is not a good place to contemplate your life decisions. But he got a few packages of pasta under his arm and he couldn’t promise anything. If you wanted him, he wouldn’t say no. Heck, he doesn’t even know if he can control himself once he smells you. He wouldn’t ever force himself on you, but in heat, things are different – maybe you would do things you otherwise wouldn’t consent to.

 

Well, if they don’t get to be used, you don’t need to know there were any. Better safe than sorry. He grabs some.

 

 

It takes almost all his courage to knock on your door. A neighbor let him in, so he got around you buzzing him in. He feels ridiculous – the same guy that went behind enemy lines alone, multiple times and without a gun, had to work up the courage to talk to another human being. A very handsome human being, that pushes all his buttons, but still. “Who’s there?” you voice sounds pretty wobbly.

“It’s Steve. I got your pasta.” He wasn’t even through his sentence, when you already open the door, rip a package out of his hand and head towards the kitchen.

It saved Steve the embarrassment of you watching when your scent hits him. It was gorgeous – it pulled him in, bewitched him almost. He felt welcome.

It also made the heat pool in his stomach, and he had to adjust his pants to follow you into the kitchen. He makes sure to lock the door again. _Never know who’s outside._

“Pasta goes in there-” you say, trying to keep yourself together. So Steve puts away the pasta, while you start on some food. His scent filling the room is agonizing.

He could give you what you want. He wants it. He craves it. And he would make an excellent partner. But you can also smell the restrain he’s putting himself under.

You step towards him, as soon as he’s done with his job. You bury your face in his chest, hold onto his Shirt…

He pulls you in, holding you. And as you look up at him, a whimper escapes your mouth. He growls at you, gripping you tight and crushing his lips onto yours – mindfully turning off the stove again behind your back before getting you to the bedroom. Bringing Condoms was a great Idea.

 

Needless to say he stays for your whole heat. He takes great pleasure in cleaning and feeding you, he’s a great cook. Even though his food requirements made it a close call with the pasta. He even had a few texts asking where he was when the last of it wore off.

 

Just now he was faced with a bigger Problem: What now?

You took that off his shoulders as well.

He comes into your room to say good bye, you hold out your arms for him and kiss him on the lips.

“You know that this doesn’t have to be a heat-only thing. If you- if you want that is.” your voice is trembling a bit. But as soon as you lower your eyes, he knockes you over, almost chrushing you in his embrace. “Gladly” he just murmurs.“ burying his nose behind your ear “I kinda suck at this...”

You chuckle and tap his shoulder “We’ll make it work.”

 

 


End file.
